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Forum:Once More Unto The Breach
After eleven long years of brushfire conflict, the People's Legion of Pancho Mendoza controls Casa Roja and with nearly two hundred and fifty men prepare to make their move on La Ciudadela before the winter comes. Just eleven miles south in the feudal city, Rey Cristobol has an army of equal size but is running low on money to maintain it and food, relying on cattle drives to feed his people. The stakes are high and it is obvious to both sides that before the sun rises on 2282 that this long and bloody war will be over. However there is one more chapter to this conflict that will be decided by the actions of just a handful of individuals as Rey Cristobol and Pancho Mendoza ready their armies for one last offensive, just once more unto the breach. Part 1 The sun was beating down on the small drive as they pushed the beeves across the desert. Nineteen brahmin from a small ranch outside of Hidalgo being driven by four cowboys to La Ciudadela to sell at market there. But there were five men on the drive, four cowboys and one guard, Billy de la Rosa. Two Gun Billy as he was called reached his hands down to feel and make sure that his pair of Caballero revolvers were there like he did every couple of minutes and looked up. He was behind the herd and his horse, Susanna was staying still. He flicked his feet in the stirrups and motioned her onwards. She galloped for maybe seven seconds and was still a good hundred yards behind when Billy heard the guns go off. Four of them to be exact and one of them was an automatic. He saw one of the cowboys, Lucas Forth fall from the saddle of his horse as a cloud of red blood sprayed from his side. The brahmin were panicking and they began to stampede as another one of the cowboys, Tom Forth was shot from his saddle and dragged by his horse when his boot caught the stirrup. It hadn't even been five seconds and two of the men were dead and the brahmin scattering, Billy flicked his stirrups harder and Susanna galloped as he rode towards the herd. His eyes scanned the sandy desert in front of him and he saw it, a small group of rocks with smoke rising near them about two hundred yards ahead of him. He bent over in the saddle and put the reins in his mouth before drawing both of his revolvers and firing off a shot towards the rock to draw attention away from the cowboys. The shot was hardly heard over the fire of the machine gun but it sent the message to the ambushers that he was here. When he was ten yards from the rocks he saw the first of them pop out, a man with a long bolt-action rifle jumped from behind the rock and aimed at Billy. But Billy had his gun cocked and fired it, shooting him down with a shot to the torso, spraying crimson blood across the sand near him. Susanna kept riding and went past the rocks and by the dead corpse, Billy motioned her around but just quick enough to see the machine gun turned around and firing at him. The gun was an old U.S. Army assault rifle and the bullets sending streaks of sand into the air were enough to spook Susanna who reared up on her hind legs in fright, throwing Billy from the saddle and into the hot sand. The nearest gun was on his left about nine feet, he began to crawl on his stomach for it before another shot went off right in front of his face, spraying sand into his eyes. He turned to see it was a warning fired by a man holding what looked like a 9mm pistol. The man walked towards Billy as the machine gun continued to fire at the two cowboys whose revolvers Billy heard. The man approaching him wore black boots, blue jeans, a solid green shirt, and a brown leather vest and had a gunbelt with a cross draw holster on his left hip. The pistol was still fixed on Billy who turned on his back and raised his hands. A few moments later the machine gun fire stopped and the man with the assault rifle and another man with a hunting rifle ran from their position behind the rocks to where Billy was. "Yo digo que lo matemos." The man with the assault rifle said to his comrade with the pistol who seemed to be in charge. "No." The man with the pistol said as Billy looked up in worry at the words uttered by the assault rifle ambusher which translated to "I say we kill him" in English. "Le llevaremos a Pancho." He then said as he looked at his comrade and then at Billy who still lay in the sand contemplating what he said, English for "We'll take him to Pancho". Billy's mind rushed as he thought and then realized who the men were and who Pancho was. "Legionnaires." He said aloud as he looked up at the men, mainly the leader who only gave a nod and a devilish smile. Larry wiped the sweat off his brow, sighing. A two week trek across the desert with a caravan wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but he needed the caps. Ever since the disasterous attempt to try and loot The Great Falls, he had been incredibly cautious with caravans but, as he'd later found out, being picky with his choice of jobs was only going to get him killed slower and more painfully than getting stabbed in the back, figuratively or literaly. "Ah, you are looking thirsty, amigo!" The caravan guard, Juan, called over. "Perhaps we stop and rest, yes?" Larry looked over at him. The man certainly looked like he could handle himself in a firefight, although him handling his personal hygiene seemed unlikely, as his hair grew down to his shoulders and his ragged beard seemed to have bits of food stuck inside it. "I'd be pretty damned grateful if we could." Larry said, forcing a smile. Perhaps he shouldn't have worn a sweater? "The weather'll kill me if I don't." Juan let out a laugh, followed by a belch. "You americans, you must live charmed lives!" "Yeah, not while the Brotherhood of Steel are shooting shit up we're not." The caravaneer, Hidalgo, looked up at the two men. "Tranquilo!" the man said, raising a finger to his lips while unholstering his 32. Caliber revolver. Hidalgo fell silent, listening intently for a sound. Larry looked around, cautiously. A relatively quiet hissing sound, obviously not belonging to the Brahmin. Larry turned around 360 degrees, empty desert with the occasional bit of foliage and rusted out vehicle in all directions. Then he noticed it. A Radscorpion was aproaching them. Juan let out a hearty laugh. "Oooh, it's a diablo, Hidalgo, better run!" Hidalgo glared at the smiling guard, hissing a curse in his direction. Larry unholstered his 10mm, primed it, then casually aimed it at the Radscorpion and fired at it, piercing it and prompty killing it. "Larry." Juan said, looking over. "There's a bar not far from here, we can get some good licor there, yes?" Larry holstered the 10mm, glancing over at him. "I could kill a Deathclaw for a damned drink right about now." He replied, a cocky grin on his face. The three men walked off, the Brahmin in hot pursuit, across the desert as the scorching sun beat down on them. "¿Él es el verdadero Billy de la Rosa, el pistolero?" Billy heard a voice ask as he regained consciousness and the black started to fade to reveal an old ceiling, lit by a chandelier with half of its bulbs busted. He was laying on a green cot and the sunlight streaming through the dirt-stained window pains was in his eyes. "Si, jefe, I recognized el." Another voice said as Billy turned his head and saw two men talking, one of them in an old dusty suit with a gunbelt, open jacket, and sombrero, and the other in a wicker cowboy hat, blue jeans, and an open flannel shirt with no undershirt, exposing his fat belly. "¿De donde?" The man in the suit asked his beer gutted subordinate who gripped his rectangular belt buckle which was emblazoned with the letters "E.M." for the Mexican Army. "En una cantina, hace five years. El shot Bad Tom Baxter en un duelo, él era muy rápido." The fat man explained as the man in the suit nodded. Billy's mind was racing, he remembered the drive, being on Susanna, and then he remembered the fight. He remembered the legionnaires and then remembered the man in the open shirt as the ambusher with the machine gun. He knew he was in a legion base and then looked at the man in the suit, he knew him, Pancho Mendoza, the communist warlord and leader of the People's Legion. "Yo soy el verdadero Billy de la Rosa." Billy said aloud, surprising the two men. "El habla." The fat man remarked in a surprised manner. "Si." Pancho Mendoza then replied as he looked at Billy. "¿Prefieres ingles o espanol?" He then asked. "Ingles." Billy then replied as Pancho walked towards him. He sat up on the cot and felt for his guns, realizing they weren't there. "Your handguns are safe." Pancho said in fluent English when he saw Billy's reaching for his guns. "Alright." Billy nodded. "I'm in Casa Roja ain't I?" He then asked. "Yes," Pancho said. "now if my men had brought back any other mercenario then I would have had them demoted and had you shot against a wall." Pancho explained heartlessly. "But you are special, a real pistolero. I could use a man like you." Pancho proposed. "I ain't a political man, I have no place in this fight." Billy said to turn down interest. "Then you'll have a place in the belly of the buzzards." Pancho then threatened. "You shot one of my soldados and rode with a reino cattle drive, that's enough to make you an enemy." Pancho explained angrily. "I see." Billy nodded as he paused and thought for several seconds before giving Pancho the obvious answer. "What do you need done?" He then asked. "Tell me, Billy, are you familiar with La Guardia Del Rey?" Pancho asked. "Rey Cristobol's special forces?" Billy asked as he searched his brain. "Si." Pancho nodded. "They have established a small camp to the south of here, my scouts report that they are heavily armed and several have sniping rifles. Their intent seems to be to assassinate me and you are going to take them out." Pancho told Billy with authority. "You'll be paid with your life and if you succeed then the legion has more work for you and I'll pay in pesos, if you don't then you wouldn't have been of any help to me at all." "Do I have any assistance?" Billy asked. "Si, you'll have nine hombres, all of them skilled." Pancho answered calmly. "Where are my guns?" Billy asked with a bloodthirsty grin, ready for work. When the caravan reached the rest stop, it turned out it not only sold liquor, but food, ammunition and cheap gear more suited for desert enviroment. Larry sifted through the clothing pile thoughfully, finally pulling out an old and tattered backpack. It looked like the perfect piece of kit, or at least by wasteland standards, it would allow him to store his uncomfortably warm sweater and gear and allow him to store bits of junk he picked up to make ends meet. Juan himself had discovered a battered old cap, which he happily slapped on his head to try it out and see how it would fit. It looked comically awful, but Juan seemed to love it, paying 40 caps for it certainly must have meant he did. Whilst he and Larry sifted through the junk, Hidalgo sat outside, his eyes scanning the desert bordering the old gas station. The only sound he could pick up was that of the two hired hands looking for merchandise and the eager owner of the rest stop shoving items in their face, attempting to sell it off, alongside the brahmin gently grazing by his side on what little grass existed. He sneered at the two mercenaries. Their sarcastic tones and endless joking annoyed him thoroughly, especially their never ending jokes about his homeland. "Espero que los comancheros conseguirle, tontos." He sighed, tilting his head back to avoid a sudden cloud of dust that had formed beside him. Meanwhile, Larry had finished browsing and had found what he considered a bargain. An old t-shirt and trousers, similar to that of what the mercs back in Boston wore though Larry, complete with combat boots. After paying the caps and stuffing his old gear into the surprisingly spacious backpack, he put his newly-bought gear on, slipping out the door followed closely by Juan. Hidalgo got up and began to follow them, as did the brahmin. Billy finished filling up the tube of his lever-action with .30-30 cartridges as he looked around. He was standing in the middle of a camp that had just been the residence of five men. However the bodies of the men that the legionnaires under his command were looting weren't combat armor and gas mask wearing Guardia del Rey troopers from Rey Cristobol's army, instead they were nothing more than caravaneers with anti-material rifles. "These men was innocent." Billy remarked to his second in command, the fat man in the open shirt and the straw cowboy hat who was looking at his newly looted Gaucho revolver. and gunbelt which he already had on. "Que you mean, bossman?" The fat man, named Rodrigo said in his horrible spanglish. "I mean these here men wasn't Guardia del Rey, they was a caravan." Billy said as he looked at his nine legionnaires. "Pero, they could have been selling estan armas a la ciudadela." Rodrigo countered. "But they wasn't, La Ciudadela is south and they was headed north, look at the tracks." Billy said as he pointed at the northbound brahmin tracks near him. "Still, we podemos utilizar las armas." Rodrigo countered as he holstered his new gun. He wasn't big on being shanghaied into the legion, but slaughtering a caravan was something that he couldn't believe he had been forced to do. He looked at the innocent men he had helped kill, there was a time when he wanted to be a comanchero and would have wanted to do this kind of work, but no longer. What he had done was murder by all accounts, yet as much as he didn't like it he decided as he looked down at the bloody face of a dead caravaneer that he was going to stay with the legion. Not for the cause, not for the people, but for the pesos he now had in his pocket from the caravaneers as while he had committed murder he reckoned that the dead had no use for it so he might as well have taken it. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and looked at his men. "A Casa Roja." He ordered loudly as he turned around and began the march back to Casa Roja. "Please senor! please le-" The pleading cowboy was interrupted by Eric's lead pipe as he caved in his skull. This was the second cattle drive he had ambushed; and the nineth man he had killed in them. He looked towards the cattle they were leading, and thought about letting them go. Then again, if they sent any soldiers to see what happened to this drive, they would probably find the cattle within half a mile of here, and not have to pay these cowboys. With that in mind, he flicked the rifle over to full-auto and emptied the magazine into the small group of cows, leaving none standing. Loading a fresh magazine, Eric once again turned south and began to head towards the citadel. "Just like the old world." the ghoul muttered as he trudged ever closer to the center of the war. Billy wasn't a murderer, sure he had killed about a dozen and shot twice as many as that, but what he had done was wrong. It had seemed acceptable when the pesos were jingling in his pocket and he had nine men to encourage him, but now all he felt was guilt as he clutched the coins and paper in his hands. He was outside against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth and his guns on his hips, trying to muster up the nerve to do what he had been thinking all day. He was going to escape, he was going to walk down to the remuda, get on Susannah, and ride off for Hidalgo. He probably wouldn't be welcome there, but he'd leave quick, he had heard of action up in Louisiana, he had never been that far north so he reckoned why not. He just had to get the nerve together, and he did. He stormed down to the tied-up horses, guarded by one lone legionnaire, a young one at that, maybe nineteen with a big heavy 1911 tucked into his pants. Billy prayed he wouldn't have to kill this boy too to get away. "No, Senor, you can't leave without permission!" He said as Billy stepped into the stirrups. "I can't let you go." And the 1911 was out. Billy looked at the kid, his hands were shaking, his whole body was shaking, but that muzzle was wide. He put his right hand up to appease the kid and sighed as his left hand shot down and drew up his gun. A tenth of a second, and one thunderous roar and flash later, the poor kid had a gaping bloody hole where his eye used to be. "That makes twelve." Billy sighed and he flicked the stirrups, he led Susannah north, then the bang, and another bang, and another as the guardsmen in the mansion started shooting. One man had an automatic but couldn't shoot to save his life in the dark. He seemed scot free but then the familiar sting hit him in the side, a bullet went clear through. He screamed and pain and slouched in the saddle but kept on. Susannah was a smart horse, she knew what to do, she would get him away as she rode north towards Hidalgo. Billy bit the stirrups all night long as she trotted, as the legionnaires pursued him, and in the early morning sun as a figure appeared on the horizon, a man who appeared to be a ghoul with an automatic in his hands, traveling south. Billy clutched his bleeding wound and prayed that the ghoul would have a stimpack to spare, or help to offer with the legionnaires who were but twenty or so minutes behind, or at the very least that he'd be friendly... Eric had just broken camp and was continuing south when a young man riding a horse appeared in front of him. Judging from the bloodstain on his shirt, he had been shot. "Whoa, hold on." Eric said to the horse, stepping in front of its path to stop it. He noticed the pair of revolvers on the young man's waist and was cautious of his movements. He helped the kid down before fishing out a stim he had gotten from a cowboy's body and injecting it into the wound. Noticing a dust cloud coming in from the direction the kid was coming from a few miles back, he asked "who are you and whose chasing you?" "Legionnaires, People's Legion, La Legion de la Gente." Billy gasped as he felt the stimpack at work, grateful as could be to the stranger as he looked back. "Probably six or seven, I was workin' with 'em but I had to light out and I shot one of 'em." He gasped quickly "Alright, that explains whose after you, now who are you?" The ghoul asked. "If I told you, you probably wouldn't believe me." Billy checked his guns to be there, drawing a look of worry from the ghoul. "Try me, I've seen a lot in my day." The ghoul responded. "Two-Gun Billy de la Rosa." Billy introduced himself with a smile over the pain as he heard the hooves of the legionnaires' horses draw closer. Great, cowboys and communists Eric thought as he heard the hooves of the approaching riders get closer. "Alright billy, let's get you to cover." He helped the gunslinger to his feet and supported him as they walked to a nearby ditch, the horse following. "I don't like communists as they have a bad history of fucking over anarchists, but stay down and let me do the talking, I don't really feel like being in a gunfight right now." He finished just as the first rider came into view and towards them. Billy peeked his head up to look at what was going on. There were five riders, all of them packing carbines and pistols. They had been after him all night and it was like they could smell his blood. The ghoul walked up to them. "Hola, como estas? Nosotros estamos buscando a un hombre. Un pistolero." The lead legionnaire told the ghoul, who clutched his automatic. "No hablo." The ghoul grunted. "We are looking for a young man on horseback, he has been wounded. He is dangerous too, a two-gun shooter." The legionnaire began in English. "We know he went this way, if you help us get him there will be a thousand caps in it for you. He's a murderer." "Billy took a breath and got back down in the ditch, laying down. He pondered over what to do and decided that he couldn't outgun the ghoul and five legionnaires if the ghoul handed him over so he'd go willingly and try to escape on the path to Casa Roja. If the ghoul gave them the run around he'd be grateful, and if he decided he was up for a gunfight after all, Billy's revolvers would have some barking to do. "A thousand caps? He must be really dangerous." Eric said. "Si, very dangerous." the legionnaire said, clearly expecting the ghoul to tell him where billy was. "I'm glad I haven't seen him, but if I do, I'll gladly let you know. can't have killers running loose." eric said, putting his best innocent tone on. The legionnaire looked at him for a long series of seconds before turning back and saying "Vamonos" and rode off. Eric watched them until they were out of sight before going to the ditch. "they're gone." he told Billy. "Gracias Dios." Billy thanked heavens as he de-cocked his guns and stepped out of the ditch with a groan. "I don't know who you are, my friend, but I owe ya big time, and even with this here wound I can still pay you back, I just got to say thank ya-" Billy was cut off. "Now let's get something straight here, you're really Billy de la Rosa? The Two-Gun Kid? The one who shot Bad Tom Baxter?" The ghoul interrupted with a bit of skepticism. "I told ya, it'd be a bit hard to believe." Billy grinned as he sat back down on his sleeping roll. "Dear God." The ghoul shook his head. "This ain't what I expected." "Trust me it wasn't what I had in mind either." Billy felt his wound. "So what's your name? Your story? You a drover? Bounty killer? Comanchero?" "Name's Eric Haganey, and i've been a rancher up in Texas for the past couple of centuries, minus the ocassional trip. Down here to fight the kingdom, and probably the legion I get the feeling." He extended his hand out to billy, who shook it. "So how exactly did you end up with a bullet hole in you and a posse of angry communists after you? Thought most gunfighters stayed outta politics." "Trust me, we do." Billy chuckled. "See I was pushin' cattle down towards the Citadel when the legion bushwhacked us. Took me hostage and shanghaied me into them. Well me and Susannah ain't too big on such tactics." He pointed to his horse. "So we made out of there like Salcedo from Abasolo." Billy groaned as his wound gave him some trouble. "Bastards put one in me on the way out, burnin' like a whore in church." "Ain't that bad." Eric commented hopefully. "Yeah, it ain't the first and it won't be the last. I'll get over this in a few days with some stims. Then I dunno, if I'm smart I'll go up north, make for Hidalgo. Ol' Ross up there ain't fond of me so I reckon I'd have to keep pushin', I could hit Rockport in a week. But now we're assumin' I'm smart, which I ain't. No, these commies gone put in a round in me and while I ain't ne'er cared to much for kings or reys or dukes or what not, I certainly don't care for a man who shoots me and I ain't gonna let 'em get 'way with it. Reckon I'm off to see Rey Cristobol." At this Eric's smile dropped off his face. "I wouldn't do that. I plan on seeing the ray myself but through the sights on my rifle." He nodded his head back to emphasize the rifle slung across his back. "You may not be smart, but hopefully you'll take advice, go north to hidalgo, get good and drunk and forget about it. If you can't forget and are still angry, the corpse always got work for a shooter like yourself. Just don't go to the Rey." Eric took off his backpack and opened it up. "I got enough medical supplies to last you there if your willing to swallow your pride on this." Eric hoped the young gunfighter would take him up on his offer, but left his hand in the pack just in case. "Well as I said, now you're assumin' I'm smart." Billy explained. "I'm a make these pendejos pay, so I'm off for Cristobol. I'm right grateful for what ya done for me here. If we meet on the battlefield I'll remember that." Billy offered. "Until then, adios." He stepped over to mount Susannah, his wound being better for the time he resolved to turn west and loop around Casa Roja to come towards La Ciudadela from the south, hoping that he wouldn't meet his ghoul friend in the fray. Eric silently watched as Billy mounted his horse and off towards the Citadel. Shaking his head, he was disappointed that Billy decided on helping the Rey. "No second chance." Eric muttered as he began his trek to Casa Roja. Part 2 It had been a week, a week of cringing pain from the bullet in his side, a week of dodging legionnaires. But here Billy was, La Ciudadela, The Citadel. He looked around the dingy little building he was in and then at the man across the desk from him. An older Tejano, he was leader of the king's mercenary auxiliary. "We're readying ourselves for a main assault on Casa Roja. We have heavy weapons, mortars, rockets, machine guns, even a few energy weapons. Mercs is gonna lead the charge, Guardia del Rey will back us up then come the main troops. It's gwine be a blitz, we'll have Mendoza's head in an hour. Pay's three thousand pesos. You in?" The old man wiped the sweat from his brow. "Definitely." Billy leaned across the table to shake the man's hand. "Good, we leave tomorrow morning." To Eric's credit, he knew if he tried to join up with the legion he would probably be linked to Billy, so he only stopped long enough to pick up some supplies and headed south again. He had been brooding over the gunfighter for about a week now, wondering if he would see him again in battle. Deciding that he was smart enough to realize the situation, he would probably head for greener pastures. He was setting up camp for the night, a few miles from the old highway, when a group of riders approached. "Hola" the leader said, stopping a few yards from Eric, his men close behind him. "We noticed you coming from Casa Roja, your not legion are you?" Eric looked over the party; loosely hung gunbelts, clothes that looked the same as rags, and a predatory smile on the leaders face. "No, I'm just a traveler, heading down to Mexico City." Eric told them. "That's a dangerous trip, amigo, for a fee we can allow you through" the leader told him, his smile turning into a grin. There it is "I'm sure glad you came along, I was so worried about the trip, I have my money somewhere in here..." He trailed off as he reached into his book bag and pulled out his SMG, turning the Comancheros' smiles to looks of surprise. After the last one stopped moving, he reloaded the gun and put it in his backpack. He looked over the bodies, finding the usual pocket change and bullets, although he did find a decent looking bandanna which he tied around his mouth, and a snub nose .38 with a full load. He put this in his work boot and managed to corner on of the horses, tying it to a nearby stump. His camp secure, he went to bed. The squad of Legionnaires walked slowly along the outskirts of the town, they were following thier usual patrol route around the perimeter of the town. "Fuckin' Commies" Montana mumbled to himslef, 32 year old Montana Henessey had been taught from the day he was born that communists were sub-human savages and should be treated as such. He leveled his M2 Carbine with the group, something he had acquired while he was fighting with the 33rd against some raiders but that was ancient history to him. The M2 fit snuggly into his shoulder and the long clip full of .30 caliber rounds felt so natural in Montana's hands, damn it was difficult to hunt down .30 cal rounds now adays so thise he had he used sparingly...but not today. Twelve man patrol versus one man with an ancient carbine, the odds weren't in his favor. But Montana had watched this town closely and had observed the Legionnaire's patrol route and had placed mines and two small explosives in the sand around the path, that first guy steps on it he's gone. The first Legionnaire walked forward, nearing the buried mine as Montana kept his rifle trained on him, he flicked the selector switch to rock and roll and waited. The mine went off in a geiser of sand and fire blowing the point man off hi feet, as his comrades stared shocked at their fallen comrade the other two charges went off blowing the second and third men to bits. Montana squeezed the trigger, fighting the recoil he hosed the whole line of Legionnaires killing or wounding them all. Without skipping a beat Montana was upon them with his Bowie knife out, flicking the selector switch to semi-automatic he put a round in anyone who showed a sign of life and promptly began to scalp the dead Legionnaires quickly slicing the mens skin before their comrades arrived. As he turned to leave he bent over one wounded Legionnaire and speaking is spanish said, "Tell your comrades what you saw here, and be happy I spared your life" Montana walked off with his scalps to head get the bounty on them with the Citadel forces in the area. "There's our boy, Montana!" One of the men near Billy yelled. He was a big tall Tejano with one of the paramilitary groups from Western Tamaulipas. The 33rd Billy thought it was called. "Indeed, Hoss. I come bearin' gifts." The man identified as Montana grinned as he held up a bag and dropped it on the ground, scalps falling out. "Nice hunt there, mister." Billy stepped out from the crowd of six or so mercs, his guns hanging low on his hips. "Thank ya." Montana grinned. "Five of 'em that makes what?" "Three hundred and fifty pesos." Billy replied. "Pesos, I don't no stinkin' pesos." Montana slung the carbine he had over his shoulder. "Have to take that up with the boss." Billy referred him. "I see, who are you, kid?" Montana asked. "The Two-Gun Kid, Billy de la Rosa". Billy proudly dropped the famous name he had killed a dozen men to earn. "Gunfighter." Montana grinned. "And a regular curly wolf at that." Hoss, Montana's friend called from the crowd. "He's fast, Monty." "You call me Monty one more time I'll tan your hide." Montana pointed at Hoss. "Well if you're goin' in to see the boss can you ask when we leave for Casa Roja?" Billy asked. "Alright, why don't you see him yourself?" Montana asked. "He's busy." Billy answered. "With what?" Montana asked. "One a' them pretty little brown gals." Hoss laughed. "Welcome to Mexico." Billy smiled the only way he could explain it.